


Hunter's Moon

by Bog_Wizard



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Camping, Canon Typical Fear/Terror, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Suspense, don't worry though they're both ok in the end, the Hunt gets involved so that's its own warning, there is some violence/mention of blood but i's not particularly graphic, there's lots of fluff and then it gets scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bog_Wizard/pseuds/Bog_Wizard
Summary: When Michael and Gerry realize there's a long weekend coming up, they plan a camping trip. What theydidn'tquite plan for was a third, uninvited  party to join: the Hunt.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 38
Kudos: 46
Collections: Gerrymichael Big Bang 2020





	1. Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout-out to [Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitualsarcasm), [Arwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralxshock), and [Nat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corruptedkid) for all giving this a beta read at one stage or another!! Thank you all, I really appreciate it!!
> 
> Arwyn was also my art partner for this event!! You can find her piece [here!!](https://spiral-archives.tumblr.com/post/617291384628674560/hunters-moon-made-for-the-gerrymichael-bigbang)

What they were doing currently was, unfortunately, not legal. It wasn’t the first illegal thing Michael had ever done, not by a long shot. The problem was, he preferred to keep his home life and his work life separate; sure, he’d done some trespassing, some breaking and entering, but that had been for the Institute.

He had _tried_ to find a legal option, he really had. He’d pulled up a list of perfectly good campsites at first, all highly recommended by travel blogs. And then he pulled up another. And _another_.

They were all just so….manicured. Rows of tents, standing neatly next to each other in a field, not a tree, not a bush, not even a _weed_ in sight. Even the campers in the photographs seemed fake, too-wide smiles and impeccable clothing giving them the look of a stock photo.

He must have gone to one such campground all those years ago, when he’d last been camping. It had seemed so exciting at the time; cooking dinner over a fire and sleeping under the stars had been so far from his every day, an opportunity to pretend he was off on some grand adventure.

Maybe he should have still been excited for it - after all, it would still be a change of pace, and Gerry would be there. Despite all of his rationale, all of his efforts to convince himself, he just couldn’t bring himself to book a spot at any of the sites he’d managed to find. After everything he’d learned at the institute, all the horrors he’d managed to face down, the prospect of spending three whole days at one of these sites just seemed so _bland_.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of fruitless searching, he’d given up, shutting his computer down. He’d texted Gerry, intending to just call off the whole damn thing. It wasn’t as though they’d spent ages planning out this trip; it was the product of the realization they’d forgotten about an upcoming long weekend, partially suggested in jest. In truth, he hadn’t even really known why Gerry had agreed to it in the first place.

He hadn’t been expecting Gerry to text back only a few minutes later, suggesting that they skip the campgrounds and find a secluded spot in a forest somewhere. He’d tried to protest, of course, but it was really only out of propriety. Even he had to admit the effort had been half-hearted.

A few days and some rather hasty preparations later and here they were, miles outside of the city with only the packs on their backs and no cell service to speak of. The sun lanced dramatically through the leaves overhead, their red and orange hues lending the whole scene an almost surreal feel as the gentle breeze sent shifting patterns rippling across the ground underfoot.

The day was warm, and the forest quiet, save for the crunching of the leaf litter beneath their feet. It was peaceful, and would have been perfect, save for the worry that wouldn’t stop circulating through Michael’s skull. If they were caught, they likely wouldn’t be able to lie their way out of this one. He hadn’t really researched the legal repercussions of doing something like this; maybe he should have -

Gerry reached out and grabbed Michael’s hand, breaking his train of thought as he laced their fingers together. Lost in his worry as he had been, the action caught Michael completely by surprise, and he stumbled over a root, flustered.

He’d barely even realized he was falling when Gerry caught him, free arm around his waist. Michael wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but suddenly he was leaning all of his weight back against Gerry’s arm, looking up at Gerry’s beaming smile, his hand still clasped in Michael’s own.

“I guess you could say you’ve… _fallen for me_ ,” Gerry said, struggling to hold back a laugh.

Michael didn’t even try to stop his own giggle at the statement. “That was awful.”

“I don’t think it was all that bad,” Gerry said, still supporting Michael’s weight. “It let me see your beautiful smile, after all.”

Michael felt the heat rising into his cheeks at the statement, Gerry’s grin widening as he saw it. With a rush of courage that he didn’t know he even possessed, Michael wrapped his hand around the back of Gerry’s neck, pulling himself up to kiss him. Judging by the small noise of surprise Gerry made, he hadn’t been expecting it either, and Michael pulled himself even closer.

He pulled away far sooner than he would have liked, extricating himself quickly from Gerry’s grip as he tried to hide the embarrassment he was sure was written plainly on his face. As he stood up fully, he couldn’t help but notice the blush that was most definitely coloring Gerry’s own cheeks, and how very good it looked on him. He grabbed Gerry’s hand again, giving it a gentle tug as he continued on into the trees.

_______

It was nearly four hours before they decided that they were far enough from civilization to safely set up camp. The spot they chose was small, barely large enough to be called a clearing. The stream that bubbled cheerily along the edge of the site was perhaps its biggest draw; they weren’t going to risk drinking its water, but it would make cleanup easier.

It added quite a nice ambiance to the spot, as well. Michael wandered over to it, taking in the moss-covered rocks and fallen branches that lined its banks. The water was clear, and he could clearly see the fallen leaves trapped in the mud at the bottom of it.

He felt as though he could stare into that stream for days. The water surged past the rocks, bubbles popping and reforming, spinning endlessly in the swirling eddies of the currents. Michael tore his gaze away with a small start, feeling slightly unsteady.

He turned away with a decisive motion, swinging his pack off of his shoulders and letting it hit the ground with a soft thump. Now was not the time to enjoy the natural beauty surrounding them, he decided. Or, rather, his stomach had decided. They had eaten before they had left, of course, and had snacks along the way, but Michael was still _starving_.

Unfortunately, there was much to do before they could even begin to _think_ about eating. Gerry was across the clearing, busy setting up the portable barbeque that Michael had insisted on bringing. Gerry had wanted to dig a campfire pit; Michael had posited that was a good way to accidentally burn the forest down.

He freed their tent from his own bag, unrolling the thin nylon to lay out flat on the ground. It was a small thing, just big enough for the two of them to sleep in comfortably. Hardly luxurious, but nothing about camping was, really. What was important was that it was light, and almost ridiculously easy to assemble. It took barely any time for Michael to slide the tent poles into place and hammer in the stakes that would secure it to the ground.

Inside the tent, he rolled out the mat they’d brought; it was, quite honestly, the most annoying part of the whole endeavor. No matter what Michael tried, it refused to stop rolling back up at the edges. Eventually, he gave up, laying it as flatly as he could and flopping their sleeping bags down on top of it, pretending that their weight would keep it from rolling back up the second he turned his back to it.

Outside, Gerry had apparently had better luck. He was sat upon a large rock beside a cheerfully crackling fire, contained neatly within the barbeque. He was looking through the food they had brought with them, namely the few pouches of boil-in-bag MREs that Michael had picked up.

“The tent’s set up!” Michael announced as he straightened up, sending a glare back in the direction of the mat he was sure was currently rolling itself back up.

“Great! What do you want for dinner? We’ve got chicken and rice…spaghetti and meatballs…”

Michael interrupted him with a wave of his hand, plopping down on the rock next to him. “I don’t even care. I’m so hungry, I think I could eat an entire horse.”

“Hmm. No horse, sorry. Chicken and rice it is, I guess.” Gerry handed Michael two of the packages, putting the rest away before he grabbed their small pot and took it over to the stream to fill.

Michael watched him go; he was staring, he knew, but it was hard not to. Gerry was just so nice to look at.

He had to stifle a giggle as he watched Gerry briefly struggle to keep his leather trench coat from dragging in the mud as he crouched down. The coat was entirely impractical for camping, but Gerry rarely went anywhere without it. Michael hadn’t even been surprised when he showed up wearing it.

He turned his attention back to the fire as Gerry returned, setting the pot onto the grate that rested over the top of the barbeque. Michael didn’t hesitate, plopping the packages into the water immediately.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait for the water to boil first?” Gerry asked.

“Does it really matter? They’ll still get hot. I think this might be faster, too.”

Gerry just shrugged and sat back down on the rock beside Michael, leaning against him. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

Michael hesitated for a moment as he wrapped his arm around Gerry, a bit taken aback by the question. “Hmm?”

“You’re the man with the plan. What did you have in mind for tomorrow?”

“Oh. I, uh, didn’t, actually. This was so last minute, I was more worried about figuring out where we would go and getting all the supplies than what we’d actually do once we got here.” He chuckled nervously. “Plus, I know you tend to prefer to make things up as we go along, so I figured we could try doing that.”

He bit down a surge of panic as he finished his statement – had Gerry _wanted_ him to plan everything out? Maybe he should have asked; they’d never really had any sort of “vacation” together before, they hadn’t been together long enough for that.

The look on Gerry’s face said all he needed to know. Michaels apprehension melted away as Gerry stood up, chattering excitedly as he pulled the food out of the pot.

“Well, I figure we could probably just go explore. After all, camping is all about ‘being one with nature,’ right?” He handed Michael one of the packs, holding it carefully by one corner. “Careful, that’s hot.”

Michael ignored the warning, immediately ripping the package open and sticking his fork into it. “Works for me. We could bring some food with us, and find a spot to have a picnic.”

“Absolutely,” Gerry said, sitting back down beside Michael.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both focusing on the food in their hands. Michael broke it first, asking, “How is yours?”

“The food?” Gerry shrugged. “It’s not bad, actually. Better than some of what’s served in the cafeteria at the Institute, for sure.”

Michael snorted out a laugh at that. “As if that’s hard.”

“Think we’ll have the same luck with the instant coffee?”

Michael made a face, wrinkling his nose as he thought of the bitter, grainy taste of the Institute's coffee. “I mean, it can’t possibly be worse, can it?”

Once again, Gerry’s expression said it all; disgust, apprehension, and regret all vied for a place on Gerry’s face, and Michael couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

“Coffee can _always_ be worse,” Gerry said seriously before his composure collapsed into laughter of his own moments later.

Their laughter trailed off into silence again after a few moments and Gerry leaned back against Michael’s shoulder with a contented sigh. The moon was barely visible through the trees, looking impossibly large and bright as it hung just above the horizon.

“It’s a full moon tomorrow, you know,” Michael said, looking up at it.

“Yeah. Hunter’s moon, they call it.” Gerry replied, idly playing with a piece of Michael’s hair.

“Why’s that?”

“Back when people needed to hunt for their food, those in the northern hemisphere would spend the month hunting and preserving game for winter. Thus, hunter’s moon.” He paused for a beat, staring into the fire with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Every full moon has a name, though not many people remember any more. I’m rather fond of the “Worm Moon.” That one’s in March.”

“How do you know that?” Michael asked with a fond smile.

Gerry shrugged. “I always liked astronomy, constellations and the like. It was an escape, you know?”

Gerry didn’t say what it was an escape from; he didn’t need to. Michael didn’t say anything, either, just wrapped his arm around him and held him close.

“My escape was always books,” Michael said with a quiet huff of laughter, “any books, really, but especially Gothic literature. I guess it’s really no surprise that I ended up at the Magnus Institute.”

“You know, when I first met you, I never would have guessed it,” Gerry said, squinting up at him.

“A lot of people tell me that. I’ve never really been able to figure it out,” Michael joked.

“It is quite a mystery. After all, bright sweaters and colorful bowties are the choice attire of _every_ Gothic writer. Surely people know that.”

“Exactly! I have to dress the part!”

Gerry huffed out a quiet laugh at that. “Do you have a favorite?” He asked.

“Bowtie?”

“No, book. I know which bowtie is your favorite - that blue one, with the little pink flowers? You wear it all the time. Sorry, I should have clarified.”

“Oh!” Michael had to take a moment to process; He hadn’t realized Gerry paid attention to what he wore at all, much less so enough to correctly pick out which tie was his favorite.

“That’s a tough question,” he said after a moment of thought. “If I had to choose...Probably the Picture of Dorian Gray. It’s just such a beautiful book. And so sad! Poor Basil didn’t deserve what happened to him. Oh! And Sybil!”

“I haven’t actually read that one,” Gerry admitted.

“Oh! Then I will say no more,” Michael said. “I don’t want to spoil it if you do decide to read it.”

“Do you have a copy?

“I do! Not on me, obviously, but I could loan it to you when we get back to London, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That you keep me updated while you’re reading it,” Michael winced after he said it, realizing how demanding it sounded. Was it too much? Maybe he should have phrased it differently.

Gerry barked out a laugh, much to Michael’s relief. “Of _course_ I’m going to keep you updated. It’s your favorite book; you wouldn’t be able to keep me from telling you my thoughts if you wanted to.”

They kept talking until the moon was high and the fire had burned down to a smoldering pile of ash. Michael had barely even realized how late it had gotten until he found himself shivering in the chill. It always amazed him how easy it was to lose track of time when he was talking to Gerry; he didn’t think he’d ever met someone who made him feel so _heard_. He was so used to being talked over, to feigning interest. It was a nice change - one that he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on right now, for fear of actually crying.

“Come on,” Gerry said, and Michael didn’t protest as he grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

_______

“Oh, fuck.” Gerry’s voice dragged Michael back to awareness.

“Wha…?” Michael mumbled, sitting up. There was a loud sound, one he couldn’t place through the haze of sleep. He shook his head with a frown, trying to register what was happening. “Is it raining?”

“Yeah. The tent’s leaking,” Gerry said, moving his pack out of the way of the steady drip of water.

“Oh, shoot. I must have put the rainfly on wrong,” Michael said, wriggling out of his sleeping bag. “I didn’t even think we would need it, not really. It wasn’t supposed to rain!”

He pulled his boots back on and grabbed Gerry’s coat; while it was, in general, rather impractical for camping, it was a great deal more waterproof than his own sweatshirt. Before he could begin to worry about what the rain was going to do to his hair, he ducked out of the tent’s doorway and into the deluge.

“Wait, Michael!” Gerry called after him, but by the time he’d heard him, he was already outside.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it!” He called back.

It was raining _hard_ , and his hair was drenched within seconds. He realized too late that he had forgotten to grab a torch. It only gave him pause for a second before he decided it would be a waste of time to get one. The light shining through the tent’s walls from the light inside was just enough to see by, anyways.

He half-stumbled, half-felt his way over to where the leak had appeared to be, tugging the rainfly more securely over the tent. “Is that better?” he called.

“Yeah, that did it.”

“Great,” he muttered, crouching down to try to tie the fabric back into place. The wet cable, combined with the lack of light, made it take longer than it usually would have, and he may or may not have let slip a few uncharacteristic curses before it was done.

He crawled back into the tent, trying not to drip all over everything. It was hard – their sleeping bags took up most of the space inside, and the little that was left was occupied by their packs. Gerry was waiting for him with a towel, which Michael gratefully accepted.

“Thank you for fixing that,” Gerry said, looking almost...sheepish?

“Well, one of us had to,” Michael said with a short laugh. He unfolded the towel, starting to dry off the sleeves of Gerry’s jacket.

“Yeah, I know but – what are you doing? That towel was meant for _you_ , not the jacket.” Gerry pulled the towel back out of Michaels hands and plopped it on top of his head, ruffling his hair with it instead.

“Hey!” He protested, trying to pull away. “But, it’s your jacket, which you love, and I borrowed it without asking. I can’t just give it back like this.”

“It’s just a coat, Michael. It’ll dry. Sure, I love it, but I love you more.” Gerry was smiling softly at him as Michael pulled the towel back off of his head, and Michael felt his apprehension ease at the sight, the knot of worry in his gut loosening slightly.

He shrugged the jacket off, trying not to let it drip on the sleeping bags as he handed it back to Gerry. Gerry took it, then leaned forwards, closing the distance between them to kiss Michael, quick and soft. He leaned forwards just enough to whisper in Michael’s ear, saying, “It looks good on you, by the way,” before pulling away again.

Michael couldn’t seem to find any words to respond, trying to ignore the heat that he felt creeping into his cheeks. Across the tent, Gerry seemed pleased with himself, spreading his jacket out to dry. Michael tossed the towel back over his head, telling himself that it was just to finish drying his hair, and not at all so that he could hide his reddened face.

He ended up just crawling back into his sleeping back without pants on; the pair he’d been wearing were absolutely soaked from the knees down, and trying to find another pair in his overstuffed bag was more effort than he was willing to put in at the moment. That, he decided, could be a problem for the morning.

Gerry was cuddled up against him within seconds of his lying back down, his sleeping bag unzipped just enough to stick his arm out and wrap it around Michael’s waist.

“I wish we could have gotten one of those double sleeping bags,” Michael mused quietly as he reached over to turn off the torch.

“They make those? Why didn’t we?” Gerry sounded almost offended. Michael chuckled.

“I couldn’t find one on such short notice.”

“Damn. Next time, I guess.”

“Next time,” Michael agreed, smiling widely in the darkness. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “I love you too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” The cheeky reply made Michael giggle. Gerry joined in, the sound filling the small space. Michael rolled over, shifting just enough to press another kiss to Gery’s lips. It was a bit harder to do in the dark, a bit messier, but they managed just fine, still laughing breathlessly between kisses.

Once they had finally calmed, Michael laid his head on Gerry’s chest, listening to the reassuring thump of his heartbeat. _What a mess_ , he thought quietly. His hair was still practically dripping, the rain outside still beating down, and Michael could definitely feel a rock through the mat, digging into his hip.

Michael was quite sure he had never been happier.

Judging by Gerry’s contented sigh, Michael thought it was pretty safe to assume that he felt the same way.

_______

He wasn’t sure what time it was when he awoke the second time. It was still dark outside of their tent, no hint of sunlight showing against its thin fabric walls. At first, he couldn’t find a reason why he would be awake. Gerry seemed to still be asleep beside him, and the tent was still dry.

He lay in the dark for a few moments, waiting for sleep to overtake him once again. After a few moments, though, he heard it.

Or, rather, he didn’t hear _anything_. When they’d gone to sleep, the forest outside had been alive with sound – the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs. Even when the rain had started, there still had been sounds of life. Now, it was dead silent. Even the stream, so close to their tent, was muted, sounding oddly distant in the stillness.

For a moment, Michael could almost convince himself that it was just of the late hour that had brought about the change.

Until - outside, a rustling in the leaves, a huffing of breath on the other side of the thin nylon wall. There was no way to see out, no light to cast a shadow, but it sounded _big_. Bigger than anything that should rightfully be in these woods.

Michael froze, his heart racing. Would it try to come after them? Behind him, arm wrapped tightly around him, Gerry mumbled something quietly. For the briefest of moments, Michael considered waking him. He quickly decided against it. What would he do? Something rash, no doubt.

The rustling faded slowly, whatever was causing it moving away. He heard a splash as it stepped into the stream, though any more movement was hidden by the noise of the water.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, waiting, barely breathing. Finally, a few hesitant cricket chirps broke the silence, and the forest around them exploded back into the quiet ambiance Michael had fallen asleep to. The tension seemed to have drained from the air, and Michael relaxed, letting out a quiet sigh.

He pressed himself closer to Gerry, freeing one hand from the confines of his sleeping bag to lace their fingers together. He murmured in his sleep again, and Michael closed his eyes, trying to forget whatever had been outside as he listened to Gerry breathing softly behind him.


	2. Just Another Hike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, ma, I named my chapters for once!! (dances)

Gerry awoke to a mouthful of hair that was definitely not his own.

Michael didn’t seem to be awake yet; as gently as he could, Gerry let go of him, backing just far enough away to pull the curly blond strands out of his mouth. He didn’t particularly feel like getting up just yet, so he settled back against Michael a sigh, burying his face back into his hair.

He hadn’t slept particularly well the night before, though that was hardly new. He’d still been awake when the squall had hit and the tent had started leaking. He still felt a bit guilty; he hadn’t intended to wake Michael, and he _definitely_ hadn’t intended for him to immediately run outside to go fix it.

Though, that was just how Michael was. Always trying to find a solution, make things easier for others. It was one of the many things Gerry loved about him.

It worried him, too. The lengths Michael was willing to go, for people who couldn’t be bothered to give him the time of day. It was going to get him hurt. Gerry knew that it had already.

As if he knew Gerry was thinking about him, Michael began to stir. “Good morning, sunshine,” Gerry said cheerfully as Michael rolled over to look up at him.

“Good morning,” Michael said with a sleepy smile that absolutely melted Gerry’s heart. “Have you been awake long?”

“Long enough to miss you,” Gerry said before leaning in to kiss him.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Michael asked once Gerry had pulled away again. He looked so concerned, as though the prospect of Gerry lying there waiting for him was legitimately distressing to him.

“I haven’t been up all that long,” he replied, laying his head back down on Michael’s shoulder. “Besides, you looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Michael hummed contentedly, in the way he always did whenever Gerry was close to him. Gerry loved the sound. “Did you sleep well?” He asked, reaching over to brush a few strands of hair out of Gerry’s face.

He tried to bite back the derisive snort that the question always prompted. “As well as ever,” he said vaguely. “You?”

“Oh, yes perfectly fine. This mat is much more comfortable than I was expecting it to be.”

“It helps that you seem to have avoided most of the rocks in the area when setting up. Well done.”

Reluctant as he was to do so, Gerry sat up, stretching. Michael remained where he was, staring up at the roof of their tent with a puzzled expression. Gerry followed his gaze as he wriggled his way out of his sleeping bag, but couldn’t find anything worth looking at.

“What did the ceiling do to you?” Gerry joked lightly as he pulled his boots on.

“It _leaked_ on us last night,” Michael said with mock anger, pulling his gaze away as he sat up.

“Technically, it leaked on _me_. You chose to run out into the rain and get soaked.”

“But if it hadn’t leaked in the first place, then I wouldn’t have had to go out in the rain. It’s the tent’s fault.” Michael said decisively as he dug around in his bag.

Gerry ducked out of the tent and into the damp morning air with a chuckle, hoping to give Michael some privacy as he got ready. Outside, birds sang as they flitted from tree to tree, the weak sunlight casting the forest into a gray pallor.

It was misty, the ground still wet from last night’s rain. Small puddles of water glinted among the fallen leaves as Gerry walked over to the stream, so swollen that its waters nearly reached the top of the small bank that led down to it.

He sat down on a rock beside it and watched it for a few moments, lost in thought. He didn’t hear Michael leave their tent, not realizing he was near until he crouched down beside him, saying, “Ready for our big adventure?”

Gerry started, surprised, but hid it quickly. “We haven’t had breakfast yet,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t much care, usually, but Michael was never one to skip meals.

“Yes, yes, I know, I meant _after_ breakfast. Speaking of which, I’m going to get some now.”

Breakfast was simple, just some bars. They’d decided against trying to build a fire and cook a hot meal; it was a shame - Gerry could have used a coffee. But everything was so wet, it would have taken ages to get going well, and it just wasn’t worth it when they couldn’t leave it burning.

“Do you think it’s alright if we leave some things here?” Michael fretted from inside their tent.

“No reason to take everything if we’re just going to come back here. I doubt anyone will find it, anyways. If you’re really worried about losing something, bring it with you.”

Gerry crawled into the tent with him, pulling the few things he considered essential out of his own bag. They’d only really need one for food, water, and first aid supplies (though they hopefully wouldn’t actually need those) and Michael had already mostly emptied his own.

“But what if we get lost? Oh, what am I talking about, you never get lost.”

“Not true; I get lost in your eyes every time I look at you.”

There was a beat of silence before Michael burst into laughter, saying, “Oh, you are too much. That is so cheesy.”

“Maybe so, but it’s true.” He picked up the handgun he’d brought, checking it over quickly before holstering it as his waist. He expected a complaint from Michael, or an exasperated sigh at the very least, but when Gerry glanced his way he looked almost relieved.

That gave Gerry a bit of pause; Michael had argued endlessly against Gerry bringing a gun with them at all. He’d only given in when Gerry promised to bring a handgun instead of the shotgun he preferred. Gerry knew it was more out of worry that they would be caught and accused of poaching, but he couldn’t imagine what would bring about the sudden change in his demeanor. Had something happened?

“Ready to go?” Michael asked brightly, before Gerry could say anything. “We don’t want to waste the day!” Gerry nodded, and followed Michael out. He would keep an eye on him, for now.

Gerry let Michael lead the way as they walked, heading off in a random direction. The sun was high and the forest was peaceful, but Gerry couldn’t shake the feeling that something was _off_. It felt like he was being watched. Not passively, as if he was down in the archives, but aggressively. Hungrily. The tattoos inked onto his joints itched, and he scratched at them absentmindedly as he peered into the trees around him, trying to find a source of the feeling.

With a frown, he shook his head. He focused his attention on Michael instead, staring absentmindedly off into the distance beside him.

“Hey. Everything alright?” Gerry asked, moving over to him and grabbing his hand.

Michael jumped, looking down at him with a small smile. “Hmm? Oh, yes, just…thinking.”

“About?” Gerry prompted gently.

“The forest, I suppose,” he said. “There’s just so much _life_ here, you know? Obviously, there’s life in London, too, but it’s not the same, all cold, manufactured buildings and paved streets. It’s different, here.”

Maybe _that_ was this strange, nagging feeling. He just wasn’t used to being surrounded by so much life. He discarded the thought immediately; it wasn’t as though he had never been outside of London. No, whatever this was, it was more than a few birds and trees.

If it was even anything at all, anyways.

“It’s nice to get away from it all,” Gerry said, resolving to try to put his unease out of his mind and enjoy the day. “It’s so quiet out here.”

“Is it?” Michael said, and for the briefest moment he sounded panicked. “I mean, yes, it is. It’s almost strange, if I’m being honest.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Gerry said. He looked at Michael out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should ask what was wrong. He seemed fine now, but a moment ago, and back in the tent… Maybe it was just anxiety, misinterpreted through the lens of Gerry’s own strange unease. If it came up again, he decided, he would ask.

When they’d stumbled across the clearing, Gerry almost didn’t believe what he was seeing. It looked like something out of a fairytale; it was grown over completely with lush, green grass, wildflowers still blooming despite the October chill. The sky above was a beautiful shade of blue, with white puffy clouds dotted throughout.

They ate lunch there, of course. It wasn’t anything special, food-wise, but they were there together, and to Gerry, that was what mattered

“Oh, look, that one looks like a rabbit,” Michael spoke up from where he was lying in the grass, pointing to one of the clouds.

“This is the third time you’ve said that,” Gerry said before looking up from where he was digging his knife into the soft wood of the log he was sitting on. “Ah. And, for the third time, you are correct.”

“You doubt me?” Michael asked with mock dismay.

“No, I could never,” Gerry said, placing a hand over his heart with the most sincere expression he could muster.

Michael propped himself up on one elbow, peering over the edge of the log. “And what have you been working on so diligently?”

“A very important work of art,” Gerry said, finishing the heart he was carving around their initials with a flourish.

“Wow, that’s very well done, actually. I’m impressed.”

“Why, thank you,” Gerry said. He took a second to pocket his knife, then rolled himself off of the log, flopping down into the grass beside Michael with a soft .

“Careful,” Michael chided him, wrapping an arm around him.

Gerry didn’t respond right away, grinning as he curled up against Michael’s side and laid his head against his chest. He had joined Michael on the ground with the intention of cloud watching with him, but he was so comfortable, tucked up against his side in the warm sun…

Within a few moments, Gerry had fallen asleep.

_______

Gerry awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in a flash of panic. He scanned the tree line surrounding the clearing, his knife already in his hand before he’d even realized what he was doing.

“Gerry? What’s wrong?” Michael asked, sitting up and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Gerry shook himself, trying to rid himself of the feeling. “I, uh…” He tore his eyes away from the trees, looking at Michael instead, brow creased with concern. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yes, not long after you finished your carving. I figured you probably needed it.” Michael grabbed his hand gently, carefully freeing the knife from it. As Gerry let go of it, he realized he was shaking.

“I….oh.” His head felt foggy. “I must have had a nightmare or something. Sorry if I scared you.”

Even as he said it, he knew that couldn’t be it. The itching was back, and he could feel eyes on him. He scanned the treeline again; nothing moved in the gloom beneath.

“Oh, don’t be. Though, we should probably start heading back. It’s getting a bit late, and I don’t fancy having to navigate these woods in the dark.”

They were both quiet on their way back; uncharacteristically so, once again, for Michael, but Gerry was still too out of it to try to figure out why. _This is why I hate naps_ , he thought grumpily. He busied himself picking up every suitable chunk of firewood he could find. He could ask Michael about it once they’d made it back, once he’d had some time to clear his head.

Gerry poked his head into their tent when they got back to the campsite as he dropped their things inside of it; everything appeared untouched. The fact seemed to comfort Michael somewhat; he was humming quietly as he set about starting a fire with the wood Gerry had collected.

Even still, Gerry had decided to ask what was wrong, so he sat down beside him. “Hey.”

“Is something wrong?” Michael asked, searching his face worriedly.

“You’ve been…quiet today. And, maybe it’s nothing, but I just wanted to make sure everything is alright? If something’s happened, or If I did something-“

“No, no, not at all!” Michael reassured him, a bit too quickly. “I was just…tired, is all. And getting hungry.”

Gerry wasn’t convinced that Michael was being entirely truthful, but he didn’t want to push the matter too far. Michael would tell him when he was ready – at least, Gerry hoped so. “Well, we can fix one of those things, just as soon as we get the fire going,” Gerry said with a reassuring smile as he picked up their small pot and headed to the stream to fill it.

In the short time it took him to fill it and walk back, Michael had already gotten a small fire burning. “That was quick,” Gerry said, setting the pot on top of the grate that covered it.

Michael beamed as Gerry sat down next to him. “It’s been quite a while since I last went, but I do remember most of what my parents taught me about camping.”

“Well, I’m glad I have you here with me, then, because this is the first time I’ve ever properly been.”

“Wait, really?” Michael asked, “No way.”

“It’s true! My mother wasn’t exactly the one for recreational family activities.” He paused for a moment, wishing he hadn’t brought her up as he poked at the fire with a stick. He refused to let the conversation end on her, so he continued. “I’ve had plenty of nights just sleeping in the woods, and I’ve lit plenty of fires, but camping? Nope, never been.”

“I never would have been able to guess,” Michael said, giving Gerry’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The water had started to boil, so Gerry got up to fish the MREs out of it, handing one to Michael. He sat down on the other side of the fire; it was all in his own head, he was sure, but the mention of his mother felt like a rift opening.

He didn’t want to let them lapse into silence, let it swallow him. He knew Michael, though, knew that he never knew what to say when she was brought up. He ripped his package open, and said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s too bad we don’t have a guitar.”

Michael started, looking at him in surprise. “Do you play?”

“Well… No, but Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do around a campfire? Play guitar and sing songs? Besides, it can’t be that much harder than violin.” Obviously, he knew violins and guitars were very different. And yes, maybe he hadn’t touched his violin in months, but he was still fairly confident in his ability to hypothetically figure out some semblance of a tune.

“It’s funny you say that – I seriously considered bringing mine with me, but we already had so much to carry,” Michael said, a note of melancholy coloring his tone.

“I didn’t know you played guitar,” Gerry said, putting his fork down and staring across the fire at him. How had he not known that? Had Michael told him, and he forgot? In all of the times he had been over to Michael’s flat, he was _sure_ he had never seen any instruments.

Michael looked , for the briefest of moments, absolutely panicked. “Yeah, I do. And Piano. I don’t play in front of people often.” He laughed nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind his ear. “If, uh, if you wanted, I could teach you, when we get back? Guitar?”

“I would love that.” Gerry said with a soft smile.

“It’s a date, then!”

“It’s a date.”

Gerry let the conversation lapse into silence as they finished eating. He barely took his eyes off of Michael the entire time. For all of his earlier insistence that he was fine, Gerry didn’t buy it for a moment. Michael spent the duration of the meal staring resolutely into the fire, quietly chewing his lip worriedly when he wasn’t actively eating. He hadn’t even noticed Gerry’s gaze on him.

It wasn’t like him. Sure, Michael was often nervous, but this was different than his usual quiet anxiety. He’d been like this all day, often staring into the distance with a worried, faraway look in his eyes. He would snap out of it when Gerry spoke to him, but he could tell it was a front, an attempt to keep him from noticing.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Gerry asked again, setting his now-empty foil to one side.

Michael’s face twisted up in an expression of unease as he looked at Gerry, and for a moment Gerry was worried that Michael would refuse to tell him what was wrong again, give another vague reassurance that everything was fine.

Finally, he sighed, returning his gaze to the fire. “I heard something outside of our tent last night.” The firelight played over his features, highlighting the worry written there. “I know that it’s stupid, that we’re out in the woods, and it was probably just a fox or something sniffing around outside.”

As Michael continued to speak, something caught Gerry’s eye; movement, slow and deliberate in the trees beyond their small circle of light.

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head all day. It just felt so _wrong_.”

Gerry didn’t respond immediately, mind racing. To the gun he’d brought, only to foolishly leave it lying inside their little tent. To the knife he always carried with him, uselessly small against the hulking monstrosity currently creeping silently closer, just outside of the ring of firelight.

To Michael, sitting on the other side of the fire, directly in that thing’s path.

“Gerry?” Michael asked, his voice practically inaudible over the crackling of the fire, his eyes never leaving Gerry’s face.

Behind him, at the edge of the fire’s glow, far too many eyes stared back.

“Michael, _run_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (dances suspensefully)


	3. Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this chapter on is where it starts to get violent. Nothing graphic, just some mentions of blood/injuries (tw for eye trauma, on the monster's part.) I don't think it's enough to warrant the "graphic depictions of violence" tag, but if anyone disagrees, let me know and I can change it!

Eyes flashing, the creature stepped out of the shadows, the flickering light playing off of dark fur and yellowed fangs, glistening strings of drool hanging down from far too many mouths. Gerry held his knife out in front of him as it snarled, feeling laughably small in the face of the hulking mound of fur and muscle that stood across the fire.

Gerry’s thoughts raced as he stared down the beast, trying desperately to find a way out. He couldn’t follow Michael; it would catch him before he could take a step, and tracking Michael down would be no problem for it with him out of the way. The same rang true for his handgun; trying to retrieve it from the tent was a death sentence.

The creature shuffled its limbs in anticipation, as if sensing his thoughts. Still growling menacingly, it stepped to the side, around the fire.

Gerry mirrored the motion, trying to keep the flames between them. The beast paused for the briefest of seconds, then shuffled back the other way. Once again, Gerry did the same, and for a single, absurd second, he had to resist the urge to laugh.

The desire was quelled immediately as it stepped forwards with an enraged snarl. It didn’t seem to notice as the flames singed the fur on its belly, filling the clearing with the acrid scent of burning hair.

Gerry lunged forwards, stabbing his knife into the first eye he could reach. As he yanked it back out, the beast roared, a screeching howl of pain echoing through the trees. It stumbled backwards, flinging blood as it shook its head violently.

Gerry backed away, nearer to the tent. A mistake, the movement drawing the beast’s attention back to him. He rolled aside as it cleared the fire with a single leap, barely avoiding its bulk.

The tent was not so fortunate, the creature landing on it with a series of sharp _cracks_ as the tent poles snapped beneath its weight. It didn’t hesitate, flinging itself towards Gerry again.

He was on his feet and ready, slashing outwards as he dodged. The blow glanced off of the beast’s hide, but elicited another enraged roar. He jabbed at another eye, burying the knife to the hilt.

The creature jerked away violently and Gerry nearly lost his knife, hand slick with blood. He stumbled back, on the defensive again, but the beast made no move towards him. It took a step back, a low growl rumbling from its chest, remaining eyes locked on him.

It sniffed at the air, the sound heavy and wet. The growl cut off, replaced by a strange, huffing snarl, sounding for all the world as though it was laughing. Without breaking eye contact, it backed slowly away, the darkness under the trees swallowing it once more.

Gerry heard it bound off into the darkness, the rustling of its heavy footsteps quickly fading into silence. He stared after it, relief and confusion warring for space in his chest as he relaxed slightly.

The realization hit him mere seconds before he heard the howl, lancing sharply through the clear night air.

“Michael!” he cried out, panicked. “Shit, shit, shit,” he dropped to his knees in front of the ruined tent, frantically searching for his gun.


	4. Full Moon Rising

Running away had been _incredibly_ stupid. It didn’t take long for Michael to realize that, though it had taken longer for him to realize that Gerry wasn’t with him.

He slid to a stop, dead leaves shifting around his feet. He tried to calm his breathing, listening for any sounds of pursuit.

He couldn’t hear…anything. Not an insect, not a breath of wind, nothing. Considering the silence last night, when whatever it was had been shuffling about outside of their tent, the quiet was far from a comfort.

Michael peered around uneasily; the night was dark, the clouds cover letting only barely enough moonlight through for him to make out the vague outlines of the trees surrounding him. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken an eye out during his mad dash away from the camp.

It didn’t take long to realize that he had no idea where he was, no clue where their camp might be. Panic spiked in his chest at the knowledge, but he fought it down.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders. He had to go back. He wasn’t about to let Gerry face whatever that _thing_ was on his own, even if monster hunting _was_ more of his specialty. Lacking any better ideas, he picked a direction and started walking.

He didn’t make it more than a step before he stumbled over something half-buried in the carpet of leaves. Reaching down, he unearthed a tree branch, thick and solid. It was pointed at one end, sharp where it had snapped off of its tree.

It was likely worthless as an actual measure of protection, he knew that. But its weight helped to calm his nerves somewhat, and that was enough to keep him clutching it tightly.

He crept through the woods as quietly as he was able, cringing at every step that rustled the leaf litter beneath his feet. The silence should have been a comfort, a reassurance that he was alone, but it felt wrong, heavy and cloying.

His panic grew with every step he took; he should be near their camp, surely? He hadn’t run very far, at least he didn’t think that he had, and he’d been reasonably sure that he’d chosen the right direction.

The darkness pressed in on all sides, the dim light of the cloud-covered moon doing little to keep his surroundings from bleeding together. The silhouettes of trees loomed ominously all around him, their branches crooked, gnarled hands reaching out for him.

He spun around, desperately straining his eyes to catch sight of the movement he swore he could see out of the corner of his eye. Something caught his hair and he lashed out with a cry, the twig that had gotten tangled in it scratching the back of his hand before it snapped.

He gritted his teeth and dug his nails into the bark of the branch in his hands, trying to ground himself. Now was _not_ the time to -

A roar cut through the trees, shattering Michael’s train of thought. He whirled to face the sound, resisting the urge to call out Gerry’s name.

As badly as he wanted to run, to help Gerry, he forced himself to move slowly, well aware of the dangers of the uneven forest ground in the dark. He would be no help to anyone with broken bones. Creeping through the dark, he strained to hear the hint of any more sounds of conflict.

He heard nothing, save for the pounding of his pulse and his own footsteps. He slowed even further, peering around warily, hoping to spot the flickering of firelight through the darkness, or (dare he hope) the beam of a torch, but none materialized, the darkness as thick as ever.

A howl sliced through the chill air, sending Michael stumbling back against the nearest tree in alarm. Back pressed against it, he clamped a hand to his mouth to keep himself from crying out.

It was not a howl of pain, far from it. It had been a howl of _triumph_ , sharp, bloodthirsty, and far, _far_ too close. Michael hissed out a shaky breath around his hand, trying to keep tears from welling up.

There was only one reason it could have to howl like that.

_Gerry…_ Michael thought, choking back a sob.

The moonlight broke through the clouds, the stark white light throwing the forest into sharp relief and snapping him back to the situation at hand. He stepped away from the tree, trying to banish the thoughts of Gerry lying somewhere, broken and bleeding. He couldn’t… He couldn’t worry about that now, not while whatever it was was so close.

He heard it then, echoing quietly out of the trees. A low snarl, deep and throaty. He spun around, trying to find the source, but it seemed to come from every direction, bouncing off of the trees and rocks surrounding him.

He backed up slowly, towards the high stone ridge at his back. His mind raced, searching for an answer that didn’t exist. He could run, but to what end? He was no athlete, and he had no torch, no light outside of the fickle glow of the full moon. He could fight, but with no real weapons, he was doomed.

A small clattering pebbles slid down the rock face at his back, and Michael whirled to face the sound, stumbling backwards as he stared upwards at the dark shape looming at the top of the ridge.

It leapt forwards, landing with an earth-shaking _thud_ mere feet from Michael. It was cast into shadow by the ridge behind them, but Michael didn’t need the moonlight to know how _massive_ it was, all fur and teeth and muscle. He could sell the stench of its breath on his face, hot and damp and smelling of rot.

It snarled as it took a menacing step forwards, and Michael could feel the rumble of it deep in his chest.

He did the only thing he could think to do; he gripped his branch tightly and swung it with all of the force he could muster. It connected with a _crack_ , jarring Michael’s arm all of the way up to his shoulder.

He was rewarded with nothing more than an annoyed huff, the creature simply shaking the hit off. Michael stumbled backwards as it stepped towards him again, leisurely. It was _toying_ with him, he realized. It wasn’t looking for a meal; it was looking for _sport_.

He fell backwards as soft earth crumbled beneath his feet, crying out in pain as his ankle twisted sharply.

The beast stepped still closer, moonlight reflecting eerily off its many eyes, all fixed on him. Dimly, he registered the blood dripping down it’s fur, splattering the leaves below. It was not invincible.

Michael didn’t allow himself to think. He stabbed upwards with the pointed, broken end of the branch, driving it forwards with as much force as his awkward position would allow.

There was a roar of pain and a splash of blood, soaking into the front of his clothes. He braced himself for his end, for the claws and teeth and white-hot rage.

A gunshot shattered the night, sprays of red droplets illuminated in the sudden brilliance of a torch beam. The creature let out another howl of pain, so anguished that the sound bordered on a screech. It turned and fled, its long strides sending it bounding off into the darkness and out of sight in seconds.

Gerry was beside him before he’d even realized what happened, hands immediately dropping to the front of his sweatshirt, soaked through with the creature’s blood.

“Oh, god, Michael, are you hurt?” His voice was frantic, and in the torchlight Michael could see that he was a mess, with leaves stuck in his hair and dirt smeared across his face.

“G...Gerry?” he managed, voice shaking. He didn’t try to stop the tears this time as he grabbed Gerry, pulling him against his chest and burying his face in his hair. “I thought you were dead,” he sobbed.

“Woah, hey, I’m ok,” Gerry said reassuringly, wrapping his arms around Michael. “I’m ok. Are you ok?”

“I’m.. Yeah,” He managed, feeling his hands shake as the adrenaline began to wear off. “I twisted my ankle pretty badly, though. Are you…?”

“A little bruised, but I’ve had worse.” He pulled away, taking a moment to brush some hairs out of Michael’s face before looking him over again. “The blood?”

“Not mine. I stabbed it. With a branch,” Michael said, a hint of pride in his voice.

There was a beat of surprised silence, then Gerry smiled softly, saying, “You never cease to amaze me.” He pressed a kiss to Michael’s forehead, then stood, face somber. Reaching into one of his many pockets, he procured another torch, handing it to Michael.

“I have to kill it,” he said, “or else it will kill us.”

“Gerry, wait -” Michael tried to protest, reaching out towards him.

“I’ll be back soon, ok? Stay here.” He didn’t wait for a response, taking off after the beast.

“Gerry!” Michael called after him, uselessly.

He clicked the torch on, shining it onto the ground around him. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for – another branch, sturdy and much longer than his last, able to support his weight.

Leaning on it, he limped off after Gerry. “If you think I am just going to _sit_ here while you go face that thing alone,” he grumbled, “you are sorely mistaken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title - Local Monster Just Wants a Nice Chase but Idiot Campers Refuse to Run


	5. Blood and Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> screams in "i hate HTML formatting"

Gerry didn’t need to be an expert tracker to follow where the creature had gone. Between Gerry’s gun and Michael stabbing it, they seemed to have injured it badly. Swaths of bark had been ripped from trees where it had crashed into them, and blood spattered the leaves underfoot in regular intervals.

The pooled blood grew heavier as he followed the trail; it looked as though the creature had slowed. Gerry felt that familiar warning itch crawling it’s way along the black inked lines of his tattoos. He took a moment to double check his handgun, listening to the forest around him as he did.

The silence that greeted him was far from a reassurance, but he pressed on, following the blood around a large tree and into a small clearing, painted white by the moonlight streaming through gaps in the canopy above.

It was the smell that hit him first, acrid, metallic, and far too familiar. He gagged, trying to keep his hold on his gun as he fought back memories of a place he had once called home, of fishing line and ink and drying sheets of skin.

By the time he registered the creature charging towards him, he had already hit the ground, an alarming from his rib cage sending stars swimming across his vision. He dragged himself backwards, ignoring the pain and trying to clear the haze from his eyes as the beast snarled angrily.

“Fuck!” Gerry swore as he realized his gun was no longer in his hand. He grabbed the first solid object he could find and threw it, a sizable rock smashing into the side of the creature’s head.

It yelped, but didn’t stop its slow advance, and a moment later Gerry felt the solid trunk of a tree press up against his spine.

 _I’m sorry, Michael_ , he thought through the haze of pain, raising a boot to kick at the approaching monster.

“Gerry!” Michael was there, suddenly, clinging to the creature’s head as it roared angrily, stumbling wildly around the clearing as it tried to shake him off.

“Wha – Michael!” He pushed himself to his feet, desperately scanning the ground for his handgun.

He spotted it among the leaves a few feet away and lept towards it, rolling back to his feet in one swift motion. He hissed in pain as the action jostled his almost-certainly-broken rib, barely taking a second to aim before he shot the beast in the leg. It lurched to the side, the motion flinging Michael off of its back.

With Michael out of his line of fire, he shot again. It fell with a whine, but Gerry kept shooting, again and again until the gun’s cartridge was empty.

Nothing moved in the silence that followed, but Gerry didn’t stop, hands shaking as he continued to pull the trigger, the gun clicking emptily in his grasp. It wasn’t until Michael pulled himself painfully to his feet, wrapping his hands gently around Gerry’s own that he let the gun fall, sinking slowly to the ground in front of the lifeless mound with a sob.

“Gerry? Are you...are you hurt?” Michael asked softly, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into his lap.

He was silent for a moment, not trusting himself to speak without breaking down completely. “I think I broke a rib,” he managed eventually, hating the way his voice shook.

“Oh!” Michael said, gently loosening his grip. “I’m sorry, I-“

Gerry stopped him, grabbing his hand to hold it in place. “Why did you follow me?” He asked quietly.

“Hurt or not, I wasn’t about to let you fight that thing _alone_ ,” Michael said.

Gerry wanted to be angry, to tell Michael what a stupid idea it had been to follow, to throw himself into danger like that. Getting angry was easier than acknowledging the shaking in his hands, the tremor in his voice. The fear that he could have lost Michael, and it would have been his own fault.

He couldn’t bring himself to voice the thoughts, there on the forest floor, wrapped up firmly in Michael’s arms. It was entirely hypocritical of him; he knew exactly how Michael would respond.

“I’m glad I didn’t,” Michael said, and Gerry could hear the tremor in his voice.

 _Because if I hadn’t, you would be dead_ , he didn’t have to say.

“I love you, Michael,” Gerry said, so quietly he almost wondered if the other was able to hear it. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, not by a long shot, but he didn’t trust himself to put what he was feeling into words.

“I love you, too,” Michael said, and Gerry felt him plant a kiss on the top of his head. “Are you ok to stand? We should probably get out of here.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Are you?” He stood up slowly, turning to help Michael to his feet. There was nothing he wanted more in the world right now than to be out of that clearing, away from the stench of blood and the memories it brought with it.

Taking Gerry’s outstretched hand, he pulled himself to his feet with a wince. “I’ll manage.”

Picking up his torch, Gerry shone it around the clearing, taking in the scene. The same ridge Michael had found continued on the far side of the clearing, forming a wall of sorts. Judging by the overhang it created, and the bones scattered around the clearing, this had been the creature’s den.

Gerry turned away, tucking himself under Michael’s arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I, for one, have had enough of running around in the dark for one night,” Michael said decisively. “I say we go back to camp, and the second the sun starts to rise we head back to London.”

“Can we go back to your flat?” Gerry asked, exhausted. “My freezer has been broken for at least a week. I don’t have any ice.”

Michael huffed out a quiet laugh at that. “I would love it if you came back to my flat with me. I, uh, was trying to figure out how to ask. I don’t really want to be alone.”

Gerry breathed a small sigh of relief at that; he hadn’t wanted to be alone, either, not after this. He reached up with his free hand to where Michael’s arm was resting on his shoulder, lacing their fingers together.

“You won’t be.”

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you are curious [here's the song that made me say "Hey, you could make a fic out of that!!"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMbY2I-06IY)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!! 
> 
> A reminder, you can find the companion art piece [here!!](https://spiral-archives.tumblr.com/post/617291384628674560/hunters-moon-made-for-the-gerrymichael-bigbang)


End file.
